


The trumpets of death

by Patatarte



Series: The Cow Crew [29]
Category: cowchop, fakechop - Fandom
Genre: young times of Brett's criminal life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-05 23:00:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12199119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patatarte/pseuds/Patatarte
Summary: Because sometimes you have to remember the past





	The trumpets of death

He heard the trumpets of death, he heard them so close. The detonation, the explosion, it was too bright and too noisy, but luckily the blast did not touch him.

But was it really luck ? It could have been over right there, quickly, but no, he was still standing. He felt like he was stuck in a giant bell that just rang. Everything was blurry, shaky and too close to comfort.

He spat puke on the floor, trying to get away from where he was standing. His will was stronger than all and he forced his feet to move, hands on his ears. Pain slowly overflowed him, maybe because he was panicking and oxygen missed his system, maybe because he was injured and did not registered it yet.

How he made it back to his appartment was a complete mystery even to him, auto-pilot was the only logical answer at this point, but he made it. He just went limb when the door closed, everything coming at once into his mind, and his entire body decided to shut down.

He dreamed of screams, blood and burnt bodies that were once his friends.

When his eyes opened, he was sweating and shaking on the carpet. He needed to drink or take some pills they gave him to calm down. It was a problem for the crew to take all kind of things, and he started to lose his sense of reality.

After struggling to get on his feet, he went straight to his fridge. It was full, he was a lucky guy then, everything was going well with the crew, money was flowing. He caught himself smiling like an idiot, just happy that things were going well.

It was until he saw his hand grabs a bottle. The dried blood on it turned his own blood cold. It wasn’t just a bad dream, it has happened, isn’t it ?

His mind wasn’t cooperating so he had to open the bottle, take a nice gulp of alcohol and then he almost broke a drawer to find some fucking pills before washing them down with more alcohol.

Time went to an halt after that.

Everyone blew, the crew he was a part of just…blew off like a fucking joke ! He patted his pockets to get his phone and it was there, with missed calls from one person. The leader of his crew was alive and trying to get to him.

He dialed back, shaking. It took a lot of time before someone answered.

“Hundar, are you okay ? I tried to call everyone, where are you ?” he sounded calm, like always.

Brett just spilled it all, all words flowing out of his mouth, he just couldn’t control that. His leader asked him if he could come, but he couldn’t. Walking was hard, but the idea of driving his fucking bike was a nightmare.

“It’s okay, son, I’ll come.”

Brett was glad to have his leader and mentor alive. The man took care of him, pulled him out of the streets, gave him everything he needed, education to money. He was so glad to still have him to guide him after this mess.

He waited with his head on his table, needing quiet for a time, to get his ideas in place. Time seemed to fly and after a while he heard fidgeting at his door. It wasn’t someone knocking, it was someone trying to break in.

Without hesitation, Brett took his gun out of his waistband and prepared to shoot.

The door opened and, to his surprise, it wasn’t just a fucking robber, it was one of his friend, one supposedely dead in that fucking explosion !

“Buddy ! How the fuck ?” Brett was so happy.

He almost dropped his weapon, too glad to see a friend alive. It wasn’t even just a friend, it was his best friend, the one he planned to open a little business one day. Brett wanted to be his own boss, and wanted some peace in that life.

The man said nothing, but Brett saw the glint of a gun in his hands. He reacted quickly, hidding behind a kitchen counter. He avoided a bullet, but felt the wound in his mind anyways.

“What are you doing ?!”

No answer, no move.

“Are you on drugs right now ?! Because I am, and you are acting like a fucking terminator !”

Nothing still.

“Buddy ?”

He wanted to peek but it was a bad idea, so he grabbed some garbage on the floor and threw it. Of course his “friend” shot it. So it was that now, uh ? He was betrayed then. That guy was the first to enter the warehouse that exploded, he should be dead, unless he set that up and ran away before it happened.

Brett opened the cabinet and threw everything away, his gun pushed against the wood, pointed to where his friend was supposed to stand and he emptied his charger.

He peeked in the bullet holes and saw the man on the floor. He needed to go, somewhere, anywhere else. He struggled to stand up and opened the drug’s drawer, taking a handfull of pills in his pocket first. Then he took a bottle from the fridge, went to his bedroom where he took a duffel bag from his closet, three guns and many amunition from his drawers and bed, and then money.

The leader was obviously in it, it was just execution, right ? Maybe his “friend” was talking with the leader about his dream to open a business, he played the game and then…It was time to eleminate him ? Maybe something worst..He didn’t know and didn’t want to find out.

He finaly changed his clothes, put on the camo vest with tigers on it, and walked away. He didn’t stop to look at his friend, it’d have been a bad idea. He needed to go away, quick, start anew.

He felt lost but his will was his best support. And with money, skills and, most of all, contacts that he gained along the way, he could do it.

He took his sweet bike and cursed until he finaly found the balance to drive it away. He truly need to stop doing drugs, that shit poisoned him too long.

Sure it wasn’t over, because the leader was alive, and he’ll be pissed off, clearly, but Brett was ressourful. 

He’ll start anew and better than that.


End file.
